


____ Disposal

by SirKai



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Leadership, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKai/pseuds/SirKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lost Light's new captain learns the hard way that there's a thing or two he could learn from the ship's resident disposal expert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	____ Disposal

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during season 2 of More Than Meets the Eye, where Megatron joins the Lost Light crew and becomes its captain.

The two Autobots sat at the edge of the long table that stretched the length of the sterile white room. The larger of the partnership stood broad and hulking, his gray frame hunched over a silver cube. Tailgate, nearly touching shoulders with new captain, was propped up by an empty engex syrup box on top of a bar stool that was also on top of its own empty syrup box.

Megatron extended a finger through an opening of the silver cube towards a cluster of multi-colored wires and circuitry. “See that light orange one?” he asked. “It looks like it feeds through the internal detonator.”

“That’s salmon,” Tailgate corrected. “And we can’t even see the internal detonator because we haven’t dissected enough of the device!”

“I know where a detonator is placed in a bomb this size. Give me the shears.” The newly inducted Autobot held out an expectant hand.

“So you’re just going to try and disarm it on a whim?” Tailgate asked as he dropped the thin pair of defusing shears into his partner’s open palm. “Don’t you think that wire’s a _little_ too obvious?”

" _Megatron_ does not act on whims, Tailgate." He peered through the cube's insides as he guided the shear blades towards the light-orange-salmon wire.

"Less ego-stroking, more doing please! There's less than ninety seconds on the timer!"

Megatron eyed the tiny optical display on the inside of the device. The numbers read _1:21_. "There’s enough time."

“Wait!” Tailgate reached out a defiant hand towards his partner’s face. “Megs, I’m _certain_ that wire is a distraction,” he said, tracing a finger alongside the side of the cube. “You can see where this piece was welded back on; we don’t even need to _touch_ the wires. Look, if we can use the laser torch to cut off that side panel-”

“Tailgate, I’ve leveled entire cities with compounds you wouldn't even consider _combustible_. I can handle a simple time bomb.”

“No," the little Autobot asserted. "I should be the one defusing this thing.”

“Really?” sassed Megatron with a lifted eyebrow.

“Yes. Really.”

“As opposed to the seasoned warlord with literally _millions_ of years more experience than you?”

“Yes! I have smaller servos!” Tailgate said, wiggling his tiny digits. “Also I know what I’m doing.”

“Tailgate, I appreciate your confidence, but your role models don’t exactly set a very _admirable standard_ for knowing what to do.”

The disposal unit’s speech turned flat. “Uh huh. Compared to the reformed genocidal maniac who, about six months ago, realized the last several million years of discourse he’s responsible for might have been a mistake?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed into bright red slits. “Point taken,” he growled.

“And you keep taking your optics off the device! Why would you do that!? It’s a weapon! Like a gun! Do you close your eyes when you’re shooting at someone?”

“No,” Megatron pondered, returning his attention to the bomb. The timer displayed _0:59_. “But that’s more to do with the _satisfaction_ of shooting someone than the risks associated with it. Now calm down and let me work.” Megatron pinned the suspicious salmon wire between the shear’s blades.

“Okay, fine. Blow us up. See if I care.” Tailgate looked away from his partner and crossed his arms.

The ex-Decepticon pressed his lips into a thin line, and started to depress his thumb

With a deafening pop!, the box shuddered, hissed, and a thin plume of smoke crawled from its crevices.

Megatron and Tailgate groaned in unison.

“Time’s up,” announced a stern, filtered voice. A holographic shutter flickered and dissipated on the opposite side of the room revealing a glowering Ultra Magnus. “You’re both dead. Bomb disposal trial A-3: failure.” The commanding Autobot raised his tablet against the window to make sure the other two could see the radiant orange _F_ on its screen.

“There were fifty seconds left on the timer!” Megatron barked. “I was _astro-inches_ from cutting the wire!”

“Megatron, over eighty percent of timebombs rely on some element of subterfuge, most common of which is a deceptive timing mechanism. That was a statistic you helped create.” The commanding bot made a few more studious taps at his datapad screen and stepped out of the control booth. He tapped at the panel to lock the door behind him before turning back towards the trainees. “Besides, snipping that wire would have blown you both up anyway. And astro-inches aren’t a real form of measurement.”

The ex-Decepticon rolled his optics.

“If we’re going to simulate a bomb defusing situation, we’re going to do it right. Now, ahem, _Megatron_ , you do an awful lot of citing your history but you don’t utilize it. As… uncomfortable as that territory is, it’s undeniable that your previous experience is an asset. Make use of it.”

Megatron folded his arms with a pout, looking to the side. "Yes..." 

“Tailgate. Your behavior was surprisingly-- how do I put it?-- _authoritative_ and _articulate_ in this session.”

“I know, I’m sorry." Tailgate dropped his tiny arms on the table with a clatter. "I got carried away and-”

“That wasn’t criticism,” Ultra Magnus amended. “You maintained confidence under pressure and displayed insistence in a situation you knew you could resolve. And you _could_ resolve it.”

The little Autobot shot his gaze up at Magnus. "Really?"

Ultra Magnus nodded and glowered at the room’s youngest Autobot. “Megatron, you’re going to listen and cooperate with Tailgate in the future, understand? Or you’ll be taking orders from him.”

Megatron’s shoulders bunched up as he mumbled something to the side.

“What was that?” Magnus leaned in with a hand cupped to the side of his head.

“I said ‘fine’!”

Ultra Magnus smirked. “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page. You’re both dismissed for today. We’ll try again tomorrow.” Making a few more swipes and pokes at his datapad screen, the tall Autobot tucked it under his arm and marched for the door. There was a decisive, echoing clang throughout the room as the heavy door closed behind him.

“Well,” Tailgate started, kicking his feet in the air. “I’m gonna go to Swerve’s. Do you wanna come?”

Megatron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, you go on ahead for now. I clearly have some _self reflecting_ to do.”

“Alright,” the little Autobot said with a shrug. He hopped down from the stool and strolled for the door. His bright blue visor glanced back at Megatron. “Do you want me to save you a seat for later?”

“That… would be appreciated.”

Tailgate waved at him excitedly and passed through the doorway. There was another echoing clang.

Megatron glared at the device and flicked it to its side. “The blast from this thing wouldn’t have killed me anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the wonderful Deers for editing~


End file.
